October 26, 2009

BEING WRONG

I hate admitting that I’m wrong. It feels like I’ve never been right. To be wrong is just more proof that I am a bad person. My life is filled with shame.

As I go through therapy, time and time again I find out more cases of how I’ve been a wrong, bad person—everything about me is wrong, from the way I think to the way I go about finding love (through sexual means).

I’m so sick of being told that I’m wrong. This is very difficult for me to write this and tears easily fall.

In childhood, I feel like I repeatedly go the message that I am not ok—I am wrong. I am bad, I am not a good person as I am.

BEING TOLD WHAT TO DO, WHO TO BE

The only way to be good was to do what others told me to do, even if I didn’t want to. I learned that my needs and wants didn’t matter. I didn’t even know what I needed—my needs, wants, likes and dislikes were determined by others.

Whenever I tried to experiment and branch out to explore what I like or don’t like, I got a lot of shit for it.

A good example of that is when my parents forced me to go to church, even though I wanted to explore atheism [15-16 years old]. I wish they would just let me choose my spirituality instead of forcing me. I hate being forced to do anything.

I am especially sensitive now when I feel like I do not matter—where it would just sting others a little, I feel like it burns to the point where I think of suicide. But it’s probably all my fault again, isn’t it. That is the whole story—every fucking thing is my fault. My misery is because of me. That is the message I still get—even from friends and psychologist.

I have so much fucking anger and rage that is kept inside me. I don’t know how to release it in a safe and non-violent way. Anger is violence. Violence terrifies me, so I am afraid of releasing my anger.

It hurts to think that I might be the source of my own rage. Again—my fault. I feel like my whole life is shamefully my fault. A bad, horrible person who plays with a rigged deck of cards. But the rigging was probably my fault, too.

There used to be a connection in my mind between my self-worth and whether or not people liked me.

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